Christ in the Pine
a poem by Peter M. Ivey
Click below to hear me read this week’s poem.
Christ in the Pine
For days now, the forest floor,
freshly bedded, has been inviting
my soul’s greatest need—
Lay your body down and
listen—
and this morning, I finally heeded
its kind call, first sinking
my tired spine and sagging shoulders into
the chest of a resting oak,
allowing my glorious self to be held
at last,
and, behold, growing up quietly
between the shadows of soaring giants,
a humble white pine danced
in the sunlight, singing,
I am the Road
also the Truth,
also the Life,
and I crawled my way into
a bed of soft wet leaves,
surrendering to the warmth of the song.
by Peter M. Ivey
The Oughts and Shoulds of Advent
Before I dive into this week’s poem, I want to begin with a simple question, one that could be good for all of us to ponder as we enter the Christmas season. The way in which we respond to this question, or better yet, the way in which we choose to respond to our response to the question, could have major implications for how we experience the coming weeks. The question that’s on my mind this morning is this:
What is it that we think Advent ought to be?
A few weeks ago, I, along with a few other fellow poets at our church, was asked to write a poem to read during an Advent service. I was incredibly honored by the request and quickly said yes, and my yes was quickly followed by a whirlwind of anxiety. It’s true that I don’t much enjoy speaking in front of large crowds, and it’s true that I have only on occasion read my poetry aloud to groups of people. These realities accounted for a significant percentage of my anxiety to be sure.
But what I was most anxious about was the task of trying to write a poem on-demand, focused on a particular theme. All of my poetry to date I’ve written in moments of inspiration centered around real-time events in my life. Never before have I chosen a particular topic and tried to write a poem about it. So questions like, “Can I do this?" and, “How am I going to do this?” and, “If I can pull this off, is it going to be worth reading aloud in front of the church?” were singing devilish choruses in my mind.
On a couple of occasions, I sat down to try and make something happen, but to no avail. So I decided to trust my normal methods and wait for a moment of inspiration. And finally, it came in the form of a days-ignored whisper.
Do you ever have those fleeting thoughts, like a trout you spot through the glare of the river, only to lose sight of it in the blink of an eye? It might be a thought about a friend, and you’re like, “Oh, that’s nice! I haven’t thought of that per…” or the desire to get together with someone, “Aah, I need to reach back out and resche…” But before you’ve allowed yourself the space to ponder and potentially take action, your mind has already moved on to the next thing.
For several days, I had been hearing a 3/4-thought: “I’d really like to go for a walk in the woods and lay in the lea…” I’d smile briefly as I imagined how restful it would be to lay my body down into a fresh pile of autumn leaves, chuckle to myself at the idea, and continue with my checking of boxes.
Thankfully, the Spirit never acquiesced, and after the fifth or sixth knock at my door, I decided to go traipsing through the woods in search of a bed of leaves. Not only did I find an earth-mattress, I found a timbered recliner (an unassuming oak to sink my tired spine and sagging shoulders into) and a cathedral in which to wait on the Lord. My prayer that day was, “God, I miss you…and I need you to draw near to me…”
And that’s when I noticed what I’ve now dubbed the Christ-Pine, a scrawny 3-foot sapling growing up quietly between the shadows of soaring giants…
…just as Jesus did some 2,000 years ago (and still does today), evading the eyes of Herod, Rome, capitalism, denominationalism, and the proudest of hearts (including my own) in order to join us in our affliction and bring us hope.
Next to my new friend, I then crawled my way into a bed of soft wet leaves, observed the swaying trees above me, listened to the sound of the wind, and allowed myself to breathe in the love of God. By God’s grace, I had finally heeded the Spirit’s kind call sent forth from the forest floor to listen for my Maker’s voice, and my soul thanked me for it. Not to mention, I had a poem on Sunday show for it :)
So, back to our original question?
What is it that we think Advent ought to be?
Do we think it should be a season of constant connection with friends and family?
What if our soul’s greatest need this year is Spirit-infused solitude? What if we need to lay our bodies down and listen?
Do we think it ought to be a season filled with endless laughter, cheery Christmas carols, and a constant twinkle in our eye?
What if this year, our Advent needs to be a season of mourning, of shedding tears, of feeling unfelt pain, of allowing Jesus to hold us, or joining others, in the dark?
Should it be a season of over-abundance, with feasts and presents galore?
What if our souls need the space of simplicity in order to recover a lost sense of gratitude, of self, of God’s goodness?]
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, would you help us to trade in our oughts and shoulds of the Christmas season for soul-felt needs. May this be a season of renewed honesty with you, with ourselves, and with those closest to us. May we approach the manger just you’ve invited us to approach your throne of grace, with confidence…that we may receive mercy for our failures and grace to help in the hour of need.1
Weekly Invitation
Take a moment to close your eyes. Fill your lungs with a deep breath. Open your palms to the sky, and ask the Spirit to guide you in thought and emotion.
Consider your Advent shoulds. What are they? Where do they come from? How do they contribute to your overall experience of the Christmas season? Be kind and curious here. This isn’t an exercise in judgment but rather one of understanding.
Consider recording your thoughts in a journal.
Now that you’ve considered your oughts, what are you sensing as your soul’s real needs during this Christmas season? This may take some time for you to put your finger on. Again, ask the Spirit of God to guide you. (You might even consider a tool such as this to help you.) Once named, honor your needs by writing them down and sticking them to your fridge. Share them with your spouse. Say no where a no is needed. Say yes where life is being offered.
I invite you to share your thoughts with me in the comments! The oughts and shoulds of the season are real for all of us. Knowing that we aren’t alone can be such a gift, so let’s start a conversation!
If you’re looking for an Advent resource that could help you name your soul’s greatest needs, I highly recommend Janet Morley’s haphazard by starlight: A poem a day from Advent to Epiphany.
Oh Peter... Yesterday I found myself watching a small video sent to me by an international friend. It was a dramatization of the nativity in Arabic. Few words were spoken, but I did recognize the word for peace to be the main one. Peace. And I found myself weeping at the shepherds who came to worship the baby Jesus. In this retelling, the astrologers who came, finally arrived when Jesus was probably 2 years old. I wept again to see this darling black-haired boy smiling at them with such shy joy and playing with chubby hands, the gifts they brought. Your poem reminded me of all of this.
The invitation for me this Advent is to "lay my body down and listen".
The sofa I sit in every morning is in front of our stove which is always burning brightly. I call this sofa the" lap of God". It has the same effect as your Christ Pine for me. "to allow my glorious self to be held"
Thank you so much for this gift!
Kaylene